


the seven year difference

by thehonorablewangfire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry's a Sassy Bitch, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Re-write, Some Humor, Some angst, Things Happen Somewhat Normally, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28671867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehonorablewangfire/pseuds/thehonorablewangfire
Summary: A re-telling with some plot changes, some Remus/Tonks, but the final pairing is definitely Harry/Tonks.Runs from fifth year to post-war.DEFINITELY EWE.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	the seven year difference

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear reader!  
> This hasn't been beta'd or anything, but was proofread (read: skimmed through) by yours truly. I hope it's to your liking. And if it isn't, tell me why!  
> Thanks!

It started when she helped rescued him from Surrey. Bubblegum pink hair and wide, easy smiles, accompanied by a complete inability to walk on a flat surface without falling. He thought it was terribly endearing. He also saw the poetic irony, that he would love someone who rescued him without even knowing who they really were. Slap a red wig and some freckles on him and he could easily have been mistaken for Ginny Weasley.

So he took the time to get to know her while he was at Grimmauld. She was an auror, and she spent a lot of time telling him about it. She was proud of herself, and why shouldn’t she have been? She was trained by Mad-Eye himself. She told him about some of her more interesting cases and even some of the boring ones. She told him about curses and hexes she’d learned, about how the training program was set up, and how to prepare himself for it if he chose to follow the same path.

She was also a metamorphmagus, and they had a grand old time stretching the limits of her abilities to prank everyone in the house. Before dinner one night she transformed herself into a carbon copy of him, and they went downstairs and outright refused to tell anyone who the real Harry was. It all got so convoluted that neither of them could tell who was who at the end either.

She also told him that she was seven years older than him, and damn if that didn’t nearly quash all his hopes right then and there. But he held out. In a few years he’d graduate Hogwarts, if he survived the war, and then he’d train to be an auror himself. Then, who knows? Anything could happen. He could be patient.

She was there to see him off at King’s Cross, and that lifted his spirits more than anything else. He patted Snuffles on the head, said good-bye to Mad-Eye and Shack, and turned to her. She looked somewhat peaky, a little sad, and he felt like she looked. So he hugged her, surprising everyone, especially himself. But she returned it fiercely. And when he promised to write, she beamed so brightly at him that the entire ride to Hogwarts he carried the most idiotic smile, while Ron and Hermione kept surreptitiously stealing glances at him.

Fifth year began to blur for him. Detentions with Umbridge came and went, with all the residual rage and pain and hatred all that implies. The High Inquisitor made a point to check his mail, he was sure, so he never divulged anything of real substance to Tonks in his letters, though she made sure to keep him apprised of her job and life. Ron and Hermione eventually figured out who he had been corresponding with and, while Ron teased him relentlessly, Hermione kept a supportively apprehensive expression and maintained her silence. She was all too aware of how it felt to love someone it seemed impossible to have.

They started the D.A. soon after, and it became a source of pride and confidence for him. He was a good teacher, he knew it, and it felt good to help others in a way that wasn’t secretly saving their lives from some ridiculous peril or another. Cho kissed him under the mistletoe still, but he didn’t return it. He apologized profusely, promised that it wasn’t her fault, but he just didn’t feel anything for her like that. She cried, of course, and asked about Cedric. And just this one time, he relented. He told her about the maze, how good Cedric was, how they decided to ‘win’ the tournament together. And he told her about the graveyard, about what Pettigrew did, and about Voldemort. He tried to explain that his survival was pure luck, and that it didn’t diminish how good of a wizard Cedric was. That he was proud to have called Cedric a friend, and that he knew how much Cedric cared for her. She smiled at him, tear tracks marking her face, and thanked him for being honest with her.

Ron and Hermione asked what kept him, and he told them that Cho had kissed him. He admitted that he didn’t like Cho anymore, that it was someone else. Ron couldn’t be fussed to pester him about it and just went to bed. But Hermione stayed, and they talked.

“It’s Tonks, isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It is. But I’m not ready, and neither is she. She may never be. But I’ll try. I have to.”

She smiled sadly at him and said nothing at all.

* * *

Sirius had promised that Tonks would be there for Christmas at Grimmauld. Her parents would be coming too, apparently. Everyone was very excited.

But then that fucking snake attacked Mr. Weasley.

Harry spent his Christmas drowning in guilt. How could he not? The connection to Voldemort was consuming him, he knew, and told Sirius so. But Sirius, as much as he cared for Harry, wasn’t truly a father. He knew nothing about comforting upset teenagers, only how to be one. So, he commandeered Ted Tonks’ service, and they talked.

Harry unloaded on him, profoundly thankful for an adult that he could open up to without fear. He told Ted about his anguish and how angry he was at his parents for dying and leaving him alone, for leaving him with the Dursleys. He told him about his first year, and his second, third and fourth years too. Every detail he could remember, and the feelings that came with all of it. Once he had begun, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. But he also told Ted about Quidditch, about learning new magic and how wonderful it was, about having friends for the first time. He asked Ted what it was like to be married, to fall in love, to have a family, even if he wasn’t sure if he’d ever have the chance to have one. And Ted was eager in his responses. He cared. And that meant the world to Harry.

Halfway through their talk, she finally walked in, smirking and winking and being generally cheerful. She drew Harry into a bone-breaking hug and made sure he was alright before sitting down with him, asking if it was alright to hear what they were talking about. He was on the fence but felt no need to lie. So she sat with them, listening intently. She gasped and teared up and raged at all the right points, gripped his hand and encouraged him when it seemed to overwhelm him completely. He was immensely thankful for the both of them.

When Ted finally called it in and stood up, he promised to write, and that if Harry ever needed him, he’d be there. They shook hands, and Harry asked if it would be alright to hug him. And he did. Harry wondered if that was what it was like to have a father, and Ted Tonks thought he gained a son that day. Tonks watched on with tears in her eyes and a huge, goofy smile gracing her lips. He thought she looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

After that, Christmas was alright.

The rest of the term absolutely raced by. Studying and revisions, failed Occlumency lessons, a few more detentions, and D.A. lessons were all he really remembered. Tonks’ letters became more sparse as she juggled her job and Order responsibilities, but Ted remained a resolute fixture during mail time. Harry even began receiving packages of food and even clothes (!!!) from Andromeda, and he sent the couple a picture of himself, Ron and Hermione in Hogsmeade wearing his new clothes, thanking them both profusely.

The D.A.’s capture and punishment, Dumbledore’s abandonment of the school, Fred and George’s resounding departure, and the first of his OWLs seemed one continuous event to him, until his vision of Sirius’ torture punched his mind in the nose and drank the blood. By the time he and the others reached the Department of Mysteries, Harry was in no mood to play around. Which is exactly why fate decided to throw a bunch of Death Eaters into the mix and see how it all played out.

All things considered it went well. Harry even got to see Tonks for few minutes, even if it was while she was dueling Bellatrix. He was feeling almost sprightly, fending for himself well for his age. He and Sirius took Lucius out together, and he laughed when Sirius accidentally called him James.

He was still laughing when Bellatrix’s curse hit Sirius and he fell through the Veil.

* * *

He decided that summer that he hated Dumbledore. Hated that the old man was nothing but lies and deceit wrapped in a kindly package. He almost immediately hated Slughorn too. Barmy old codgers, the both of them. But he decided that Dumbledore had knowledge that he needed to ‘vanquish the Dark Lord’, so he’d go along with it. But he didn’t trust him.

His return to the Burrow was unceremonious. Ron and Hermione seemed to be finally figuring things out, Ginny was less jumpy around him, and the rest of the Weasley clan seemed to be keeping on keeping on. That worked for him. It gave him sanctuary from thoughts and nightmares about Sirius, and about Tonks, who hadn’t replied to any of his letters or even tried to get in contact with him. That hurt almost as much as losing Sirius.

It surprised him that as much as he was sure that Malfoy would enjoy breaking his nose, the blonde ponce barely seemed to even care. He was _also_ surprised that Tonks was the one to find him. And no, not pleasantly surprised. She was helping guard the school for the term, she told him, and it was busy work.

“Too busy to write?” he asked pointedly.

She didn’t even bother looking sheepish about it. “I didn’t want to talk about it, Harry. He was my cousin.”

“He was my _father_ ,” Harry growled. “You were the only other person close enough to him who could’ve understood, or – or helped me through it.”

“I…didn’t think about that,” she whispered. “Why not Remus?”

He was bemused at the question. “Moony knew about me for thirteen years and never once tried to find me or see me. His best friend’s son, and he never once tried. Why would you think I’d want to talk to him about Sirius?”

She had a ridiculously pensive expression, like she was neck-deep in thought. It didn’t suit her. When he asked what was bothering her, shrugged and they walked on. She had to check in with her team and sent out her Patronus. And as the silver-tinged wolf raced ahead, it clicked for him.

 _Ah._ Remus.

They reached the door, and Harry tried so, so hard not to be a passive-aggressive little shit about it, but when she apologized for not replying to his letters he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s fine, Tonks. I’m fine. I'm dealing with it on my own. At least you had someone there to help you through it, right?” When she hesitated before she nodded, he knew.

“Maybe he’ll be better for you than he was for me, then.” And he walked ahead before stopping himself.

“Dora?” he asked quietly. “Did you even open them? The letters.”

Her silence gave him his answer, and he just shook his head and walked off. For the first time since he’d met Tonks, he regretted knowing her.

* * *

He and Hermione made a great pair, he thought. She was a genius and he was reasonably intelligent. They relied on each other to make up for their respective faults, as good friends do. And they also called each other on their shit. Which is what she did about that damn Potions book, and what he did about her ridiculous refusal to tell Ron how she felt. Nevermind that the lazy git wouldn’t do the same.

He told her about Tonks and Lupin, and the way she responded told him that she knew before he did. He couldn’t find it in him to be angry at her for keeping it from him, because he’d realized that he had no claim to Tonks. He was just a sixteen year-old boy in _way too far_ over his head, in nearly every aspect of his life.

Dumbledore kept supplying him with idiotic trips down memory lane, promising that having suitable knowledge of Tom’s past would be crucial to understanding how to kill him one day. He was inclined to disagree, but said nothing. He’d sat down and thought long and hard about Dumbledore’s intentions, and after asking if Dumbledore knew how the Dursleys had treated him and receiving a resounding _nothing_ in response, any semblance of trust he’d had in the headmaster disintegrated on the spot. Nevermind his patent and obtusely naïve trust in Snape.

Quidditch went well. Ron was a good Keeper when he got out of his own head and just _played_ , and the rest of the team was in excellent form. Ginny flew like a demon, like the air surrounding her owed her its allegiance and compliance, and Harry couldn’t help but admire her. She picked up his slack, called out the team on their shit when necessary, and within two practices he picked her as Alternate Captain. She'd hugged him and promised not to let him or the team down, and he’d enjoyed it. Fuck Dean Thomas.

Fracturing one’s skull is never an enjoyable experience, even with magic. Waking up _once again_ in the hospital wing was just as irritating as ever, though he held a smug satisfaction at commenting to Poppy that it wasn’t his fault he was there this time whenever she fussed at him. The team came to see him, Ginny puffy-eyed and overtly worried, and he soothed their worries and promised to kick McClaggen off the team as soon as he was fit to leave. Hermione collected notes and study guides for classes, which he was forever grateful for, but the last person he expected to see at his bedside was Moony.

Harry couldn’t exactly say he was glad to see him.

He shifted on his feet nervously, unable to look Harry in the eye even as he checked in on him. Ron sat nearby on his own bed, unabashedly eavesdropping with interest, the prat.

“Dora told me to come see if you’re alright,” he eventually croaked out.

“I’m fine,” Harry responded tightly. “Just a slight fracture. Poppy mended it up in no time. She’s keeping me in case of a concussion.”

“Good, that’s…good. Look, Harry, I think we need to talk about some things.”

“I disagree, Professor.”

Lupin chuckled nervously despite himself. “Harry, I haven’t been your professor in some time. Remus is fine, or Moony. Or even Lupin.”

“Alright, Mr. Lupin,” he said coldly.

Lupin sighed heavily, despondent. The scars and grey hair, which Harry had once found cool as all hell, now just seemed to age him. Even as he shoved his face into his hands and rubbed furiously, he seemed to gain ten more years.

“Harry, I never came to see you when you were younger because I’m dangerous to be around. Albus told me you were safe, Sirius was in Azkaban, and I believed Peter to be dead. Even if I’d thought taking you in was a good idea, the Ministry would never have allowed it. I regret it every day, truly, but there was nothing to be done. I thought you had a family to take care of you, a real family, and being close to werewolf is _dangerous_ , Harry.”

“They starved me,” Harry said, feeling nothing as Lupin paled. “They took away food as punishment or locked me in a cupboard for weeks at a time. They punished me for accidental magic, screamed and yelled and called me a freak. I didn’t even know what my parents’ faces looked like until I was eleven. I would’ve done anything to have a real family, even if it were dangerous. I had my parents’ money just sitting in a vault, we could’ve afforded Wolfsbane. I needed a father, Lupin. I _needed you_ , and you weren’t there. Sirius had an excuse. Peter too, I suppose, in a twisted sort of way. But you didn’t. You chose not to be there.”

Lupin’s head dropped to his chest, utterly defeated. He knew Harry was right, regardless of whatever excuses he could try and offer. But he said nothing.

“I wondered after third year why the Hat put Pettigrew in Gryffindor. He wasn’t exactly brave or courageous. I wondered why it put my father in there too, because I’ve seen memories of him while he was here. Memories of you all. And he wasn’t kind or brave either. He changed, I know, but still. It’s funny that the only one of the four of you that deserved to be in Gryffindor was Sirius.” He chuckled ruefully at his joke. “You’re a coward, Remus Lupin.”

He said nothing else, and he and Lupin simply stared at one another, both knowing that something had broken between them. But as Lupin began to leave, Harry once again couldn’t help himself, and he called out:

“She deserves better.”

Lupin stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn. “I know she does,” he whispered.

“Then you’d better make yourself worth her. Be better for her than you were for me.”

When Lupin was finally gone, he cleared his throat and tried his damnedest not to let the stinging in his eyes pour over. He was saved when, several minutes afterward and after a very thorough think-through about the situation, Ron couldn’t help but ask:

“What the bloody fuck was that all about, then?”

* * *

Ginny was…a wonderful escape.

That was the best he could think about her, and it killed him to be so blasé about it. he was disgusted with himself. This was his best mate’s little sister, the girl that worshipped the ground he stood on for years, carried an eternal torch for him, and the best he could do was be glad that she distracted him from Tonks. Distracted him from Malfoy, too.

Harry _knew_ Draco was plotting something. He felt it. It was instinctual. And his instincts had only proven him wrong one time that he could remember. So he tended to trust them. Problem was, nobody else seemed to. Even with what he considered pretty substantial proof, Dumbledore assured him that he ‘had it covered’. McGonagall, for all her sharp intellect, was just as annoyingly dismissive as she had been in his first year.

“You’d think she’d have learned by now,” Harry insisted.

But Hermione disagreed, too. About Malfoy, about the Half-Blood Prince (and he _hated_ that she’d been right), and about Ron. Harry was firmly in the ‘you should tell him how you feel’ camp, because they both knew that Ron was an idiot and would take years to figure it out himself without help, but Hermione was insistent. She wanted him to figure it out for himself. So, they didn’t talk about that. Or anything else, really. For the first time since third year, he found himself unable to want to be around Hermione.

 _So_ , _snog Ginny it is then_ , he thought. And he did. For all her hard edges and competitive nature, she was soft and sweet with him. She molded herself to him when they kissed, like she was afraid he’d float away and she was trying her hardest to keep him rooted to the ground. He wondered if he’d be like that if he ever kissed Tonks. Not that it would ever happen.

But the _guilt_. God, the guilt ate him alive. From the first time he kissed Ginny, he knew it would never be anything more. And honestly, he wasn’t trying to toy with her or lead her on. But it still ate at him all the same. He was actually right in the middle of a serious conversation about breaking up with her when he got word that Dumbledore wanted to see him.

The underground lake was gross. Like, Chamber of Secrets gross. Moss and lichen grew without the decency of being anywhere near aesthetically pleasing. And considering this was where Voldemort was hiding one of his seven soul shards, with all the Dark Magic and creepy imagery that implies, the scenery was oddly fitting. As was the creepy boat. And the bodies in the lake. _Inferi_ , Dumbledore called them. Magical zombies. Lovely.

If he hadn’t been scared out of his damn mind, he might’ve taken some sort of sick satisfaction at seeing Dumbledore so broken and helpless, but he couldn’t find it in him. He just felt sad, really. And then he felt the glacial coldness of the lake around him, the gripping, gnashing hands on his arms, his legs, his chest, his neck.

And then he saw fire.

By the time they reached the astronomy tower, Harry was worn out, too fatigued to disobey the headmaster, even with the threat present. Watching Malfoy admit that he’d been plotting something was something of a victory, he supposed, but learning that Dumbledore _knew_ about it, while unsurprising, was still infuriating. He’d put the other students’ live in danger for the idiotic hope that Draco, of all people, could turn over a new leaf? Seriously?

He hardly even noticed the other Death Eaters at all, or what was said between them, until the green flash hit Dumbledore and he watched the old man fall. He tore his eyes to the caster, and his blood boiled underneath his skin.

How he wished that Snape would just _fight back_ , the sniveling coward. Just like Lupin. Just like Pettigrew. Harry was surrounded by people who refused to fight for anything more than themselves, if they chose to fight at all. He couldn’t understand. So, he put the spells that Tonks had taught him to good use, not giving Snape or Draco a chance to flee. Bone-breakers, Reductor curses, the _Sectumsempra_ that had nearly gotten him expelled, he used everything he could think of.

And just as Snape hit him with a weak stunner and thought that he could get past the wards, Harry silently summoned his wand back and poured every ounce of anger into the curse.

It wasn’t at all like the time in the bathroom. The cuts that hit Draco this time weren’t thin and numerous, they were few and bone deep. And if that weren’t enough, one got him right in the jugular. Snape watched in horror as the lifeblood seeped out of him, and roared, turning on his heel and rounding on Harry. Curses flew, too fast and Dark for Harry to keep up with. His wand was blasted out of his mangled hand from a bone-breaker and he fell. And when Snape stalked up to him and sneered, “ _Crucio_ ”, Harry was forced to abandon his rage in favor of the pain.

* * *

He didn’t wake until after Dumbledore’s funeral. They all told him it was a beautiful service, that Fawkes sang for him, and that the tomb was beautiful and glittered out on the lake. McGonagall told him he wouldn’t be charged for Malfoy’s death, as it was considered self-defense and Draco was a marked Death Eater, and that Snape had fled. When Harry asked what happened after he passed out, _she_ walked in.

She looked a right mess. Her usual pink spikes were nowhere to be seen, abandoned in favor of a mousy brown mop on her scalp. She obviously hadn’t slept for days, but when she saw he was awake, she tore off toward him like a bat out of hell, tears streaming down her face. Within seconds, the bubblegum punk was back, and she fussed over him endlessly.

She could tell something was different right off. _He_ was different. The smiles he gave her never touched his eyes, even when he promised for the sixth time that he was fine and thanked her for helping drive Snape off. She couldn’t get the image of Severus Snape bent over Harry’s writhing body, a silent scream wrenched from his lips as Snape tortured him. When she had finally driven the overgrown bat away, he was frozen still, pale as death and breathing raggedly. She truly panicked for the very first time, not bothering to levitate him through the castle but carried him instead, ignoring anyone and everyone she passed, thinking _not him not him not him please._

But Harry knew none of this, and she told him none of it, so all he had to go on was that she was just doing her duty as an auror. He was polite, acted as though he was perfectly overjoyed that she’d visited, ignoring the bile that rose in his throat every time she smiled at him or asked if he needed anything. The only thing he needed, that he _wanted_ , was for her to just get on with it and leave. And she eventually did, promising to see him during the summer. He just nodded and when she said “See you later,” he had replied with “Goodbye”.

When the hospital wing was finally emptied out, he let himself cry just a little.

R.A.B. was a right bastard. All that work, all that effort, all that _horror and pain_ , for it to be a fake. No one even knew who the hell R.A.B. was, anyway. What use was a fake locket to a trio of teenagers that were strongarmed into killing a Dark Lord? He let himself forget for a moment and just worry about the plan. Ron and Hermione had promised to help, and he believed them. He wasn’t stupid (or arrogant) enough to think that he could do it all on his own.

He loved his friends, and for the first time since they’d met, he told them so. And they loved him too.

* * *

Andromeda Tonks was a beautiful woman. A bit too similar looking to Bellatrix, he thought, but beautiful nonetheless. She was also very motherly in a way that was altogether different from the smothering overprotectiveness that was so prevalent in Molly Weasley. Apart from the embarrassing moment that he’d pulled his wand on her in his delirium, thinking that she was Bellatrix, they’d had a nice few minutes catching up before the portkey took him and Hagrid to the burrow. She was worried about Ted, being a Muggleborn, so he told her about Hermione obliviating her parents and sending them to Australia. She was hesitant, for good reason, but she admitted that she was confident that Harry could win, but in the end saw that it might be a reasonable idea. Much like Harry, she would do _anything_ to protect the people she loved.

She was also comfortable enough with Harry to voice her displeasure with her daughter marrying ‘ _that bloody werewolf’_ , which was extremely unpleasant news to him on top of everything else that had just happened, so he politely asked if they could talk about something else, and, Andromeda Tonks nee Black, being the highly intelligent woman and observant mother she was, could see in his face exactly why he preferred to change the topic. And her heart broke for him.

She pulled him into a fierce hug before the portkey activated and promised to send Ted away, and he smiled softly at her before the hook in his navel continued to ruin his day further.

Everyone agreed that the Seven Potters plan was an absolute bust. Good in theory, bad in practice. Everyone _also_ agreed that without Mad-Eye coordinating their efforts, many of their good chances of winning the war had suddenly disappeared without a trace, much like Moody himself had done. Ginny was despondent around Harry, rightfully heartbroken and righteously angry, but he had other things to worry about. Ron was a bit miffed with him for breaking his sister’s heart, but when Harry played it off as trying to protect her while they were off on their merry hunt, he eventually shrugged it off and started to plan.

The wedding was truly beautiful. It was such a blatant and heartfelt expression of love that it sort of hurt him to be there. Fleur looked divine, as usual, and Bill looked even more handsome with his scars. And when they exchanged their vows in sight of magic and family, the glow that overtook them was brilliant and effusive. Harry danced with anyone who seemed interested, from Ginny to Auntie Muriel, even little Gabrielle Delacour who, after finding out it was him under the Polyjuice, insisted on staying rooted to his side during the reception. Harry wondered if how he saw Gabrielle, wonderfully innocent and obviously in some semblance of love, was how Tonks had seen him two years ago. He doubted it. He wasn’t nearly as smiley as Gabrielle.

But then, of course, Death Eaters took over the Ministry and ruined a perfectly good wedding. Harry grabbed Gabby round the middle and made his way to the Delacours, making _absolutely sure_ she was safe before finding Ron and Hermione and apparating away. He felt good about that, oddly enough. He hoped the Delacours could get out of the country before things got worse.

* * *

“You want to come with us?” Harry asked suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because I can help you, Harry,” said Lupin. “I’m no auror but I’m no slouch either. And I – I want to try to do right by you, as I should have before.”

But there was something there. Something not right with Lupin’s tone. It was…deadened. Toneless. Defeated. And why was Tonks safe at her parents’ house while the Order and everyone else was fighting? She was an auror, she wouldn’t abandon the fight unless she had to.

“What’s happened to her?” he asked, to Ron’s and only Ron’s confusion.

Lupin looked stricken, as if Harry had punched him. “I don’t think this is the best ti – “

“Remus,” he interrupted. “Tell me.”

The room was silent for a moment. Hermione looked as if she knew what was going to be said, Ron looked like he didn’t have a clue what was going on (which was likely true, the thick git), and Harry…Harry had a sneaking suspicion that was making bile rise in his throat.

“Dora…” Lupin tried, and failed. He looked up at Harry, apology and sadness plain as day in his eyes. “Dora’s going to have a baby.”

It was as if the entire world had been swept out from under his feet. He felt like he’d just been stabbed in the gut, and before he could say a word he rose to his feet and reached a rubbish bin just in time to empty his stomach. He hated himself for having such a ridiculous and immature reaction, but he couldn’t stop himself. He finished quickly and rinsed his mouth with water before walking back to the sitting room and plopped himself back down, intent on acting as though that had not just happened.

“Congratulations,” said Harry.

Neither Hermione nor Lupin were blind, or oblivious, and while Hermione said nothing, Lupin suddenly flinched and stared at Harry as if he were seeing him for the first time. But Harry shook his head, sighed and simply said:

“She doesn’t know. Never will. She’s got you, and the baby.”

“I didn’t know, Harry, please believe me.”

“Remus. It doesn’t matter.” And that was that. It was done.

“So…do you accept my offer? Will you allow me to help you do whatever it is that Dumbledore tasked you to do?”

Hermione and Ron looked to Harry. It was his call after all, his mission, ultimately. But Harry was confused.

“You – you want to leave Dora behind while she’s _pregnant_ and come away with us?”

“She’ll be perfectly safe with Andromeda. She sent Ted away, obliviated, by the way. Said you gave her the idea,” he nodded, and Hermione shot a look at Harry, who waved it off for later. “Harry, I think James would have wanted me to stick with you, to help you.”

“I disagree,” said Harry. “I don’t think he would have wanted you to abandon your wife and child to come on a secret mission with us. Maybe fifth year James, but not parent James. You must understand that, right?”

Lupin paled again, and his expression shifted from apologetic to angry very quickly. Hermione and Ron, who was still _very_ confused, looked back and forth from Harry to Lupin, surveying the exchange.

“You don’t understand, Harry.”

“Then by all means, please,” Harry said, crossing his arms.

“I – I don’t want to say this to you of all people, but I made a mistake in marrying Tonks. I was blind, and she was so persistent and I’ve regretted it ever since. I – “ but he couldn’t finish because Harry, in his blind rage, had grabbed Lupin by the collar and had him slammed to the wall.

“I **_TOLD_** YOU! I TOLD YOU TO BE BETTER FOR HER!” Ron and Hermione sprang to their feet, grabbing Harry’s arms and wrenching him away as he raged.

“You bloody coward!” he spat. “You’re going to dump her and your kid and run off with us? How _dare_ you!”

Lupin was pleading with him, begging him to understand how difficult it was to be a werewolf in their society, how he would regret having a child like him, how he willingly ostracized Tonks by marrying her, by trying to love her, but all Harry could hear were a coward’s excuses.

“…a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!”

“You’re right. I can’t _believe_ you, Remus. You have – you have _everything_. She loves you, she’s carrying your child, and you’re here, with us, begging us to absolve you of it. I can’t believe you thought this was a good idea,” Harry choked out. He couldn’t stop the tears.

Lupin looked completely and utterly defeated. The anger rushed out of him and he looked every bit the broken man that he was.

“Go back to her,” Harry demanded. “Go back to her and _don’t you leave again_. I don’t care what it is, what it’s for. You stay and you protect her. We’ll do just fine by ourselves. We always have done.”

Lupin nodded solemnly, fixing his robes and beginning to stalk to the front door. Just before left, he turned to Harry with a tortured expression.

“It should have been you, Harry. I am sorry for that. For everything.”

He closed the door and apparated away, leaving Harry despondent. Hermione pulled him into a hugging, whispering how sorry she was, and he just let her hold him, hoping that Lupin would do right by her in the end. Then it would be worth it.

Hermione pulled herself away and grabbed his and Ron’s hands, and they sat for a while. Ron was oddly quiet, pensive even, trying to piece together the argument and what it meant. Hermione was telling Harry that he had done the right thing, that parents shouldn’t leave their kids unless they have to, leaving the rest unsaid. He was grateful.

Ron flinched suddenly, finally cottoned on to the situation, put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and smiled sadly at him. “Oh, mate, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Harry. “I’m fine. Either of you hungry?”

* * *

They’d found the locket. The hunt was on. They knew who had it, where it was, and how to get it. The plan was formed, perfected, re-done thrice, perfected again, and memorized. All they had to do was follow it.

But then, their plans always went to hell, didn’t they?

Ron was splinched, Grimmauld was lost to them, and though they had the locket, everyone seemed worse for wear. The horcrux hunt was going badly, suffice it to say. The locket preyed upon their worst thoughts and darkest secrets. It affected Harry and Ron worse than Hermione, and while Ron’s thoughts were mostly focused on his family and their safety, Harry’s were focused on Tonks. His inner voice was taunting him, berating him for being a coward and never telling her how he felt, teasing him about Lupin keeping her bed warm at night, about their child, a child he’d never have, or if she would even survive the birth, or if the wolf would rip her apart from the ins –

He ripped the locket from his neck and threw it onto the table, startling Ron from his seat. Since they’d escaped the Ministry, the trio had kept their own counsel for the most part, each feeling despair at their circumstances and angry with their lack of progress. They had no idea how to find the rest of the horcruxes or how to destroy them. It was maddening.

When Ron abandoned them, Harry felt a blow to his heart like the night Lupin came to Grimmauld. It wrenched at him, gnawed at his misery, and not even knowing that the sword could help or that Hermione had a plan could lift his spirits. And he knew, however bad he was feeling, Hermione must have been feeing infinitely worse.

“Hey, “Mione?” he asked from his bunk. She shifted over to look at him, tear tracks almost permanently stained.

“Yeah?”

“D’you mind if I sleep with you?” he asked, shocking her. “No – no, not like that. I just – don’t want to feel alone right now. Does that make sense?”

She nodded slowly and lifted the corner of her comforter. He slid in silently, laying his head on half the pillow, and they lay there silent.

“I’m sorry I drove him away,” he finally said. “I – I didn’t mean to do that. I _know_ it was the locket that made him say all that. I didn’t think he’d actually leave.”

“I did,” she said. “I felt it coming for weeks now. People can only bend so far before they break, Harry. Ron’s breaking point is just lesser than others, I suppose.” She cried again, quietly. “I wanted to go with him, Harry, I’m sorry, but I did. He looked so _broken_ when I said I was staying.”

“He’ll forgive you, Hermione. I know he will.”

“Would you forgive Tonks?” she asked suddenly, not specifying what for, and not needing to.

“Yes.”

“You really do love her. I thought it was a teenage crush on an older woman for the longest time, but it isn’t that at all, is it?”

He sighed heavily. “No, it isn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell her, Harry?”

“Because I was a teenager, Hermione. Still am, actually. I don’t know anything about this except how I feel. I couldn’t burden her with that. And besides, she wouldn’t have taken me seriously. I couldn’t do that to her. She deserves more.”

“But – “

“And she’s got Lupin now. And a _baby_ , Hermione, shit. I couldn’t take that away from her… Her Patronus changed to a wolf, did you know that?”

She shook her head sadly.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

And truthfully, Harry was too. He didn’t often indulge in self-pity, but in this one instance, he wondered why he couldn’t have one good thing in his life. The pattern of constant anger, betrayal, misery, and danger had caught up to him, and he felt completely drained.

“Hermione,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“If he comes back, don’t make it hard for him. Say what you have to say and forgive him. You’re lucky to love each other.”

She didn’t say anything back, and he didn’t expect her to.

* * *

Godric’s Hollow sucked. Fuck snakes. Fuck _Confringo_. And fuck Bathilda Bagshot, God rest her soul.

Harry knew his anger with Hermione was completely irrational, but damn. His wand. It felt like losing a friend.

Learning about Dumbledore and Grindelwald was surprisingly unsurprising. Harry had abandoned his idolization of Dumbledore a long time ago, the only thing he felt was a resigned indifference to the life and lies of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

He tried to convince Ron to destroy the locket, but Ron refused, saying that it didn’t feel right. So, Harry picked up the sword and uttered some nonsense in Parseltongue. Then the locket swung open, and the wave of magic momentarily blinded him. When the spots left his eyes, he saw her there, suspended in midair. She was beautiful still, but cold and terrible and not at all _her_. He heard that cold, high voice from the locket taunting him.

_She will die, Harry Potter._

_She will die and she will die alone and broken, begging for you to save her._

He saw the pseudo-Tonks fold in half backwards, heard the snap of bones and the silent scream on her lips, and it broke him.

_You are unloved, Harry Potter. Even your friends abandon you. Your allies._

_The ones you love are cursed by your existence. Cursed to die. Cursed to fall._

He fought the bile in his throat, lifted the sword and rushed the locket.

_You will lose…everything. And then you will die._

He slammed the sword onto the locket and was blown off his feet, a high, piercing shriek rending the air before it suddenly quieted. He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the remains of the locket, giving Ron a hand up.

Ron looked shaken, and Harry knew Ron had heard what the locket said to him, had seen what it had shown him. Before he could say anything, Ron yanked him into a fierce hug, clutching him like he’d never see him again.

“I’m sorry, mate. I’m so sorry.”

Harry gently pulled himself away, throwing on a small smile, and waved him off.

“Water under the bridge. Don’t, er, don’t tell Hermione about what you saw, yeah?”

“Not a word.”

They began to walk back to the campsite, Ron throwing an arm over Harry’s shoulder. The contact was nice, it was good. Ron was back, and they’d get it all done and squared away faster with the three of them.

Learning that his cloak was The Cloak was a bit shocking, to say the least. Oh yeah, and those other two Hallows were neat as well. But honestly, he was still focused on the horcruxes. He could worry about an unbeatable wand and the stone if he survived the war. It was relatively unimportant. Learning that Xenophilius had sold them out to Death Eaters, however, was just shy of gut-wrenching. Before they could even formulate a plan to try and rescue Luna, the snatchers had caught them and they were thrown into the cells in the Manor.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, hearing Hermione scream like that would give him nightmares for years.

But they got out! Somehow! Dobby, brilliant, overenthusiastic Dobby. He deserved a hero’s funeral, with full honors. Better yet, he deserved to not have to be buried at all. He, more than anyone Harry knew, deserved to live. It seemed to him that the locket’s curse was true. And rather than bolster his resolve to end the war, to end Voldemort, Harry felt he was on the cusp of giving up.

Shell Cottage was idyllic. It reminded him of the myth of Elysium, where the greatest of heroes would find paradise in the underworld if they performed great deeds and earned the privilege. He wanted nothing more than to abandon the war effort, the horcruxes, _everything_ , and just stay here with Fleur and Bill. But he knew he couldn’t, not without the guilt.

And as it so happens, the right motivation came the next night.

As Luna discussed the finer points of creating some bloody tiara, the rap on the door stilled the cottage and everyone within.

Harry went to the door, wand drawn, a curse already on his lips, while the rest of the inhabitants prepared either to fight or escape.

“Who’s there?” Harry called.

“Remus John Lupin,” the voiced said calmly. A lurch of nausea hit Harry again, but he tamped it down. “I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and the Secret-Keeper of Shell Cottage told me the address.”

Harry opened the door to a very surprised Remus Lupin, who suddenly appeared as though he’d rather be anywhere else. He crossed the threshold quietly, white-faced and covered in his travelling cloak.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked, already preparing himself for the worst.

“Yes, yes. It’s all fine. Dora – Dora’s had the baby,” he said.

A general outcry of congratulations met the rather subdued announcement. Fleur squealed, and Bill wrapped himself around Lupin, who smiled sadly at everyone before continuing.

"Yes – yes – a boy,” he said. He strode over to Harry, who tensed, but stood resolute.

“I know I have no right to ask this of you, but you are the only person I trust to take care of them if something should happen to me.” Harry didn’t miss the way Lupin said _them_ instead of _him_ , and wondered why. “Will you be godfather?”

“Me?” he stammered.

“Yes, you, Harry. I – we – When Dora made the suggestion, I agreed. I knew it had to be you.”

“Ye – yeah, yes. Of course,” he said, forcing a smile. Hermione, having been forced to watch Harry’s heart shatter a thousand times in the past few months, stood abruptly and nearly ran out of the room, unable to watch it happen again. Ron followed after her, Bill’s confused expression lingering on them, while Fleur just stared at Harry sadly.

 _Fucking hell, does_ everyone _know?_

“I can’t stay long. I have to get back soon,” Lupin said, still accepting Fleur’s offer for a drink in celebration. Harry needed one too, and asked Fleur to make it a double. Lupin looked to be an even mixture of dazed, delighted, and miserable, and Harry was unable to fathom how those feelings could even be felt all at once.

Lupin turned to him and held out his hand. “Thank you, Harry. I – James would be proud of you.”

Harry accepted the proffered hand and smiled again. “You’re welcome. What’s his name?”

“Teddy,” he said with a smile. “Teddy Remus Lupin. He looks just like her. Barely even a hint of me, if I’m honest. His hair was black when he was born, ginger when I left. I’m sure it’ll be blonde by the time I return.”

Harry was gobsmacked. “He’s a metamorph?”

“Yes, I know. Very rare for it to pass down single generations like that.” Lupin looked hesitant, but continued talking. “I actually – er, I wanted to talk to you, Harry, about Dora.”

“There’s nothing to say, Remus. It’s alright, really.”

“No, Harry, it isn’t. I know it isn’t. Trust me, if I’d known you were here, I would’ve waited to bring the news another day. I know it isn’t easy for you. But I meant what I said. I actually trust you to take better care of them than I ever could.”

There it was again. _Them_. Why was he saying _them?_

“What are you playing at, Remus?” he asked pointedly.

“I’m not _playing_ at anything,” he replied. “I’m doing what I can, what you asked of me. But you know it’s not in my nature to sit on the sidelines and watch everything happen. I know you know, it’s in your nature as well.”

“Do it for them, Moony. It may feel like cowardice to watch the fighting happen and do nothing to protect your family, but it isn’t. They need you right now. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Lupin looked at him sharply. “You know,” he began, “every time we talk, you sound more and more like Sirius.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Harry said with a grin.

“As you should. He was the best of us,” Lupin said with a wistful smile. “Anyway, I’m off. I’ll tell Dora you accepted, yes?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Be safe, Moony.”

As Bill shut the door behind Lupin, Harry grabbed the empty glasses and plates and took them to wash, to have something to do other than think for a moment. Bill looked like he wanted to talk, but Fleur whispered something in his ear and he nodded before walking away. She slowly made her way over to him, cleaning and throwing surreptitious glances his way. He sighed, setting the dishes down, and looked at her.

“Whatever it is you want to say, Fleur, please do get on with it.”

“I will not waste time with asking simple questions I know the answer to, Harry. I know you are not alright.”

“No, not really. But I will be.”

“Yes, you will. One day. But that does not help today, non?”

“I suppose not. But what else can I do?”

She looked at him for a moment, lips pursed and head tilted. “Why did you accept his offer, Harry?”

It only took a moment for him to answer. He had considered saying ‘because it’s the right thing to do’, but it fell flat. So, he told the truth. “The same reason I do everything else: for her.”

“I thought so. Harry, you do not owe her anything. I do not discourage you from loving Tonks,” she said quickly at his incredulous look. “although it does seem unhealthy. I am saying you must learn to do things for _you._ ”

He thought about her words for a few moments and finally nodded at her. She was right, of course, far be it from him to argue about matters of the heart with a French Veela.

“Thanks, Fleur,” he said. “You know, I reckon the French might be alright after all.”

She beamed that dazzling megawatt smile at him. “And maybe not all Englishmen are as uncouth as I thought.”

He grinned cheekily. “Well, we can’t all be Roger Davies.” He laughed at her indignant look, and she joined him soon after.

* * *

Another horcrux was found, planned for, and collected. Of course, the planned failed spectacularly. Like, escaping on the back of a Ukrainian Ironbelly and destroying half of Gringotts spectacular. They’d lost the sword, unfortunately, despite both Bill and Fleur’s warning to not trust Griphook. But, they had a need to go to Hogwarts anyway, so the trio were confident that they’d find a way eventually.

Unfortunately, Tom knew that they were hunting horcruxes, and would soon arrive at the school himself. That threw a wrench in their plans, but, as Harry was well aware, they did their best work at a chronological disadvantage.

Aberforth was an arse, they all agreed. But he warmed up quickly after learning that Harry was just as disillusioned with Albus as he was. And when Harry told him that he was fighting for _himself_ , not for Albus or some idiotic cause or another, and certainly not the _Greater Good_ , he had Ariana take them to the castle. Neville looked like shit, but so did Harry, so who was he to judge. The general uproar of students when they plopped into the Room of Requirement was near deafening, having hands shaken and shoulders clapped and tears shared, it was quite the experience. And not one that Harry was keen on repeating.

Having learned his lesson about keeping secrets from Dumbledore, Harry gave a brief explanation of horcruxes to the closest members of the D.A. and asked if they knew of any artifacts owned by Rowena Ravenclaw. Luna knew from the outset what he was looking for, had been talking about it before Lupin showed up at Shell Cottage actually, and where to get more information.

Seeing McGonagall and Flitwick duel with Snape had been an invigorating sort of terrifying. But he was indeed a coward, just as he’d said the year before and just as McGonagall had just said. When they reached the Room of Requirement again to fetch everyone, it was as if the room had just sprouted new people to inhabit it out of the ground. The entire Order was there.

Wait. Was the _entire_ Order there?

It was crowded, too crowded to see clearly. Kingsley was there, along with the entire Weasley horde, Fleur, Katie and Angelina and Alicia, Emmaline Vance and even Dung was there, shockingly. Harry kept looking, hoping not to see her among the gathering, when a clear voice cut across him.

“She isn’t here,” Lupin said, much to Harry’s relief, and then:

“Moony! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to fight. I must.”

“No. No, what you _must_ do is crawl through that portrait again and get home to your wife and kid.”

“I am where I am needed,” Remus said, and this time with very obvious sadness. Harry was curious but didn’t have the time to argue.

Harry called over the din, told everyone that they were evacuating the younger students and to gather in the Great Hall. Ginny argued with her mother and Percy made a surprise appearance, mending fences with his family quickly, while Harry just glared at Lupin the entire time. When his scar burned and he saw the vision of Voldemort at the gates, he knew it was time.

* * *

McGonagall tried to exile the Slytherins to the dungeons, to punish them for the sins of their fathers, but Harry had truly had enough of the idiotic House rivalry. He cast a _Sonorus_ and looked directly at the house of snakes gathered in the Hall.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle, born on the thirty-first of December, 1926, to Merope _Gaunt_ , a pureblood witch, and Tom Riddle, a _Muggle_. He lived in an orphanage in London until he came of age to come to Hogwarts. He was visited by Dumbledore himself, taught and trained here in the castle. When he was fifteen, he opened the Chamber of Secrets and unleashed the Basilisk within it, attacking dozens of students and killing one. From there, he collected followers, committed atrocities to wizard-kind and muggle alike, parading a false pretense of preserving pureblood culture and tradition. He hated his Muggle name, a reminder of the love potions his mother used to seduce his father, and the orphanage he hated to call home. So, he changed his name. Into something people would fear. Something they would follow.”

The entire Hall was silent in shock and disbelief. No one said a word.

“Voldemort wants you to be your parents. He wants you to take his mark and kill and die for him, believing that you’re doing the right thing. Dumbledore wanted you ostracized for being in the ‘House of Dark Wizards’. But I know better, I know you’re not. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin,” he said to assorted gasps and hisses and other noises of shock. “And I agree, I would have done _well_ there. But not in the way that Voldemort or Snape or Draco Malfoy did. I would have tried to make us better. I don’t think you all are evil, but I do think you could be better, too.”

He turned to leave the Great Hall, needing to find the Grey Lady, but turned his head back to the Slytherins. “Fight with us or against us, the choice is yours. I won’t have you imprisoned in your own school. But remember this: in the last war, Voldemort wiped out so many pureblood families that our society barely recovered. He erased them. He doesn’t care about your culture or your traditions. He just wants _power_.”

* * *

Helena Ravenclaw was actually very nice, and he resolved to talk to her more if he came back to Hogwarts. If he survived. She seemed lonely and Voldemort obviously did a number on her. It’d be nice to talk with someone who had similar experiences. He rushed to the Room, hardly stopping to talk to Neville and Aberforth, before he ran into Ron and Hermione again. Harry had to admit, Ron’s idea about the basilisk fangs was a stroke of genius, and they were officially down to two horcruxes. When they burst into the Room of Requirement, the trio that stood inside forced Harry to a grinding halt.

“What – What are you _DOING_ here?” he roared.

There she was, of course. Of fucking _course_ she would come. And Christ, she looked beautiful. He nearly forgot he was angry with her for coming, but shook his head to gather his thoughts again when she slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. She was shaking furiously, sobbing into his shoulder.

“I couldn’t stand not knowing – where’ve you _been_ all this time? Why are you here?”

He was bamboozled. Utterly flummoxed. Why was _she_ asking after _him_?

“Wait. _What?_ What do you mean, why am _I_ here? Why are _you_ here? Where’s Teddy?” he asked dubiously.

She tried wiping her tears, but new ones replaced the old, and she gave it up as a bad job. “He’s with my mum. I – I had to be here. Everyone else is, I can’t just _not_ fight.”

“Oh, yes you bloody well _can_ ,” he spat. “What happens if you die? Or Remus? Or _both_? You’ll just leave him without a mother and father? D’you think he’ll be proud of you, sacrificing yourself for the cause? I’ll tell you from experience that knowing you died for a good reason won’t mean _shit_ to him, Nymphadora Lupin.”

“Tonks,” she growled adamantly through the tears.

“I don’t care about your ridiculous hate for your first name right now!” he shouted.

“No! Not what I meant. No, I mean, it’s not _Lupin_ , it’s _Tonks_ ,” she said with a expectant look.

 _Well then_.

“Oh,” he said dumbly. “Why?”

She rolled her eyes at him and grinned. “I’ll explain when you’re older. Now tell me where you need me to go.”

He thought for a moment before deciding. “Hogsmeade. No, wait, listen. I know you want to be in the thick of it. But I’m serious about what I said before about Teddy. Remus is already out there,” he pointed towards the door. “We need someone to help protect the kids and make sure there aren’t any stragglers. Take Ginny with you. If we see anyone in the corridors we’ll send them up to go through the passage so you’ll have backup. Please, Dora, let that be enough.”

She still looked mightily unhappy, but she relented, grabbed Ginny and called for Neville’s Gran, and they climbed into the passageway and walked out of sight. Harry breathed deeply in relief, hoping the village would be safe, before turning back to Ron and Hermione. To his surprise, they were wearing matching mischievous smirks.

“What are you two on about, then?” he asked, and they burst into laughter. “What?”

“ _Tonks_ , she says. Not _Lupin_ ,” Ron guffawed, causing Hermione to snort.

“Harry,” she said between laughs, “Harry, you can be so _thick_.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

“She and Remus aren’t together anymore, you idiot,” Ron said. “She came here for _you_ , and you got off all high and mighty and yelled at her.”

He smacked a weary hand to his forehead. “ _Fuck_. I did, didn’t I?” They nodded at him in commiseration, and he shook his head. “I’ll worry about it later. Let’s get into the corridor and get the diadem.

And get the diadem they did, and got it destroyed for them as well, thanks to some ill-timed _Fiendfyre_ courtesy of Crabbe, may he rest in peace. They were down to one. The snake. _Fuck_ , Harry hated that snake. He tried to survey the battle from their vantage point, trying to see if Voldemort would join the fray himself, hardly listening to Percy’s taunting and Fred’s laughter before –

Harry's tired of watching his friends die.

* * *

They’d watched the life drain out of Snape, watched him leak memories from the gaping wounds Nagina had inflicted on him. Voldemort’s ‘reprieve’ from the battle was a ruse, and everyone in the castle knew it. it didn’t help the stares that the trio received as they entered the Great Hall. There were bodies laid out everywhere, loved ones expressing their grief through shrieks and screams, or otherwise were silent and gaunt. It made no difference. The reality of war is such that anyone who sees it wishes they never had.

Harry saw Fred and Percy’s bodies there, the faint echoes of smiles still etched on their faces. Lavender was in bad shape, an attack from Greyback that would leave her permanently scarred if she survived at all. Seamus’ pyrotechnics had backfired somewhat and he was missing three fingers. Both Astoria and Daphne Greengrass were having great wads of chocolate shoved down their throats by Blaise Zabini while surrounded by multiple Patronus guards. They had nearly been kissed trying to escape the castle. Colin Creevey, Hannah Abbott, Theodore Nott, Natalie McDonald, Aberforth, Professor Vector, countless scores of students and faculty and Order members. Cold. Dead. He reached the end of the aisle of the dead, and there he was.

Remus, stone-eyed and just. _Gone._ Looking almost relieved. Something shattered in him right then and there, and Harry went numb. He mumbled something to Hermione about watching the memories and walked off.

* * *

Harry no longer hated Albus Dumbledore, or Severus Snape for that matter. He didn’t have enough energy to care about dead men, about plots and plans and who loved whom or why. So, Snape was obsessed with his mother? Unimportant. He did the right thing in the end, kept confidences and followed orders. Meanwhile Harry was raised up like the perfect lamb for the slaughterhouse. Again, unimportant.

But he knew the truth, and that mattered. He had to die. But, of course, he’d known that for a while on some subconscious level. The scar, the mental connection, the Parseltongue; it was all too convenient to be coincidence. Dumbledore had been right after all.

And Malfoy. He was just a pawn in this scheme. He hadn’t needed to die at all, but for Dumbledore’s scheming. Another casualty of this war, unnecessary and harsh and all but impossible to ignore.

Harry gave a heaving sigh and accepted it all. His friends were safe for the moment, Dora was alive and would be there for Teddy. She would have Andromeda and Ted to help. She would _survive_. And that gave him strength. He was ready.

The snitch lay heavy in his pocket, and Harry fished it out. Lifting it to his lips and remembering the inscription on it he whispered: “ _I am ready to die_.” Unsurprisingly, it opened right up. He rolled his eyes once more at Dumbledore’s machinations and took out the smooth black stone, rolling it thrice in his palm.

The shades presented themselves in a small grouping. His parents, youthful and beautiful and filled with so much sadness; Sirius, roguish and handsome, the smirk on his face unable to be resisted, hand-in-hand with –

“Well, I guess this explains why you could never be happy with Dora, then,” Harry drawled.

Lupin’s shade gave a sad nod. “Sirius and I were together for years before your parents died, Harry, and were once again after his escape. For me, there was no one else. I lied to myself for too long, Harry. This is what I meant when I said I regretted marrying her.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, already losing his patience. “Then why not tell her? Why lead her on, Remus? Surely she would have understood.”

“I did. Tell her, I mean. She was running away from something she feared as much as I was, and that unified us in a way. But it could never last. That’s why she left. And I am glad she did.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry inquired.

“You, Harry. Dora’s been quite taken with you for a few years now. Of course, loving someone marked for death is quite a daunting thing, even if one doesn’t realize they’re marked.”

“But she doesn’t know. She can’t know. I have to – to – “

“To die, yes,” Remus said. “But death may not be the end you anticipate, Harry.”

Harry nodded dumbly, not quite understanding what he was hearing. He turned to Sirius and his parents.

“I wish things could’ve turned out different. For all of you,” he said.

Sirius simply shrugged his shoulders. “I was living on borrowed time as it was, pup. I got to see you grow, and that’s all that matters to me. I only regret that we didn’t get more time together. As do they,” he said, motioning towards the two people he wanted to see both the most and the least.

Her eyes were glistening, emeralds mirrored by his own. Her lip trembled, and his father gripped her hand tightly.

“My boy. My beautiful boy. I am so proud of you,” said Lily. “We both are. You’ve done so well.”

“You are more than I could ever have expected,” James said shakily. “We – we watched you grow up. All this time. Everything you’ve had to go through. And you’re still _good_. A good man. Better than I ever could have hoped for.”

“I had a lot to live up to,” Harry admitted with a laugh.

“She’s very lovely, Harry,” his mother said coyly.

“Yeah,” he said with a distant grin, “she really is.”

“A little too old for you, in my opinion, but you could do worse.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Mum,” he said, and choked, because _Merlin, that’s the first time he’s ever been able to actually say that to her._ And she must’ve realized it too because she was crying all over again, and he was too.

“Will – will it hurt?” he finally asked.

“No,” they all said in unison.

“Quicker and easier than falling asleep,” said Sirius.

“I’m afraid,” he finally said out loud, for the first time in his life.

“We know, love,” his mother said quietly. “We were, too. You’ve been so brave. _So_ brave.”

“Take care of them, Harry, please,” Remus said. “They’ll need you.”

“I – I love you,” he said, and looked at Remus. “All of you.” He dropped the stone and they shimmered out of existence.

He waited for a moment, evening his breath, waiting. “How much of that did you hear?” he asked.

She stepped through the threshold, grimy and sweaty, covered in cuts and bruises, and so absolutely _perfect_ in every way. She crossed the office to him and took his hand. He can’t help but notice how perfectly hers fits in his. But then again, she was a metamorph. Changing hand sizes probably wasn’t much of an effort for her.

“All of it,” she admitted. “I was already here when you exited the pensieve.”

“And how much of it is true?”

She looked directly at him. “Every word.”

“You know what I have to do.”

“I know what you _think_ you have to do – “

“No, we don’t have time to argue, Dora. I need you to help me.”

She blinked. “Of course.”

And he told her his plan.

* * *

By the time he reached the clearing, he was no longer afraid. He had an idea of how it would go. If he was right, he was worrying for nothing. If he was wrong, well, it would be someone else’s problem surely. The Death Eaters are already there waiting, arrogantly assuming he would just show up. Which, of course, is exactly what he had done.

He was expecting some sort of grand speech of Tom’s excellence and his own inferiority, but there’s none of that. A simple couple of words are thrown at him and he doesn’t even try to block it.

When he awoke for the first time, a place very much like Grimmauld awaited him, if Grimmauld were made of marble and sparkling clean instead of bleak and grimy. And Dumbledore was there too.

Of all the people to greet him upon his death. Dumbledore, _really_?

They had an odd conversation, even as far as conversations with Dumbledore went. The old man threw out anecdotes and praise like they were Halloween candy, as if expecting the same Harry who lapped up his attention prior to his death. Harry was less than sorry to disappoint.

He told Dumbledore that he knew of the Hallows, that he was the Master of all three and what that entails. That he didn’t intend to use any of them besides the Cloak, but that he intended to have a conversation with Death if possible.

“But why would you need to?” Dumbledore asked.

“Well,” Harry said, “I quite liked living, to be perfectly honest. And if there’s anyone who could possibly come back, it’s likely to be the supposed Master of Death, right?”

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. “Well, Harry, I’m glad to be the bearer of good news for once. You aren’t quite dead at the moment.”

“Well, that just seems highly improbable.”

“I’m quite certain, I assure you. You see, when Tom’s curse hit you, it destroyed the piece of his soul trapped within you. I’m sure, if you’d like, you could walk up the stairs and go.”

“Go where?”

“Beyond, of course. To the Whatever That Comes After, I suppose.”

“The next great adventure, you mean?” Harry said coquettishly.

“Quite,” Dumbledore says, that goddamn twinkle reappearing.

“And if I don’t want to go beyond?”

“Then you simply walk out the front door and return, Harry. I dare say someone will need to actually finish Tom. Might as well be you, no?”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly, as long as he dies, I’m not too fussed about who does it or how he goes. Vengeance was never something that interested me.”

“An admirable trait, Harry. Perhaps a better incentive to return, then.”

“If you’re talking about Dora, don’t. I have no idea how to deal with women.”

“Neither do I, dear boy. I’m afraid women remained a mystery to me well into my golden years. Minerva was often exasperated with me.”

“All due respect, Albus, but that was probably due more to your habit of speaking in riddles and nonsense rather than your inexperience with women.”

“Ah, yes. That might be true as well,” he said, smirking.

“I think I’ve forgiven you,” Harry said. “For the lies and all. I understand the kind of pressure you were under. I still don’t agree with how you did things, but I understand now. I’ll still probably yell profanities at your portrait now and again when I’m feeling distraught. But I’ll be alright.”

“Yes, Harry. I think you will be. Now, pip pip! Time to get going, I think.”

“Yes, sir. Enjoy your adventure. I’m sure I’ll see you some time.”

“I expect so. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I do hope that it isn’t anytime soon.”

Harry smiled at him. “I hope so, too. Goodbye, Albus.”

When he awoke for the second time, Tonks already had him under the Cloak, sobbing quietly as she held him, begging him to be alive even as the spellfire erupted around them. Voldemort barely had time to open his eyes before nearly a dozen _Sectumsempras_ were hurled at Nagini and finally, _finally_ , he was mortal once more.

The Death Eaters didn’t have much time to react either. Some threw their wands down, others fled the forest, others stood and fought. And during the chaos Harry withdrew from the Cloak, grabbed a spare wand from the ground, and pointed it directly at Tom Riddle.

The wand didn’t agree with Harry, but it did the trick just the same. When their spells collided, Harry knew he would win. The Elder Wand wouldn’t fight its Master. And it didn’t disappoint. Voldemort’s own curse rebounded onto him and his body hit the forest floor with a muffled _thump_.

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur. Commiserations were given, congratulations were exclaimed. The Death Eaters and the few students that fought for Voldemort who surrendered were taken into custody. Those who survived gathered in the Great Hall, where healers had arrived to help the injured.

Ron and Hermione rushed him in the Hall, crushing him under their combined weight, shedding embarrassingly loud tears and sobs that they would all deny later on. None of them would admit it freely, but they didn’t expect that the three of them would all survive the battle. The Weasleys were grieving for their losses, as were many others. It would take time to heal. More time than any of them believed they had.

Such was the true ferocity of the chaos that not a soul noticed when Harry was pulled away and seemingly into nothingness, as if he’d just vanished on the spot.

* * *

They walked along the shore hand-in-hand, utterly blissed to have survived. She stared at him openly, unashamed, and he stared back just the same. When they had looped the lake once (not a mean feat in itself), they lowered themselves sit beneath the massive oak that had become Harry’s favorite spot on the grounds.

“So,” he said.

“So,” she agreed.

“I – I’ll be honest, Dora, I don’t quite understand. I’ll admit, I’m a bit thick, but how – why – Merlin, I don’t even know _what_ to ask, much less _how_.”

“It’s rather complicated, honestly,” she said. “Remus was _there_ , we were both distraught over Sirius, and it happened.” She’s nervous, he can tell. “And it kept happening. I suppose I tried to mask how I felt for you and tried to make it about him. It didn’t work, at all. But by the time we both realized it wasn’t for us, I was pregnant. I was coping with Sirius’ death in a bad way.”

At this point, he wished he hadn’t asked. She can tell it’s difficult to hear. But he wanted the truth, and he deserved it.

“My mother would have killed me if I had a kid out of wedlock, I think. So, we made the practical decision. It didn’t really help much. It wasn’t what either of us wanted, so he tried to get out of it several times. When he came to try and offer his help at Grimmauld, Shell Cottage, here. I think he wanted to go, to be with Sirius again.”

“I think so, too. I – I never wanted you to find out, Dora. Not directly from me, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re seven years older than me, for one. No one in their right mind would date a teenager as an adult. It’s mental. I knew I wasn’t ready for you, not in any way that would’ve mattered. And you weren’t either.”

“And now?” she asked hopefully.

“And now,” he breathed out heavily. “Now, I don’t know. There’s going to be so much to do. Rebuilding and all that. The aurors will need you. Teddy will need you. I have no idea what’s next for me, I didn’t really expect to survive. And Remus _just_ died, a few hours ago. It might not have hit you yet, but it will. And – “ he faltered.

“And what?”

“And after Sirius, you…you ignored me, Dora.” Her breath hitched. “I know you were hurting, too. I get it. Really. But I – I needed you. Or someone, I don’t know. But I wanted it to be you. I wrote every day. I didn’t even know if you were okay. And I’m glad you had Remus to help you cope, really. You needed someone, too. But I didn’t get that, and I’m still coping.”

Her heart cracked wide open when she heard the hurt in his voice. It was desolate, resigned. Like he’d already accepted that she was over it. Fuck, she’d done a number on him.

“Okay,” she said. “I understand. You waited for me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I don’t want you to wait, Dora. Live your life. I don’t know how long it’ll take, or if it’ll happen at all.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’ll wait anyway. And Teddy will need his godfather, too, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s get back to the castle.”

He helped her up and they walked silently back up the grounds, and along the way she couldn’t help but feel that she’d missed her chance.

He couldn’t help but feel the same.

* * *

She’s waiting for him, just like she said she would.

The war’s been over for a few months now, and everything is under construction. Businesses are re-opening, families are reconnecting, everyone is rebuilding.

Harry and her mother had gone to France two weeks after the battle to find her father. They’d returned three days later with a _very_ resentful Ted Tonks. It took him some time to forgive them for taking away his choice, but he softened up after meeting Teddy. And he was overjoyed that Harry had survived. She understood the feeling.

Harry’s coping, just like he said he would. He’s around fairly often, most of the time to check in with Teddy or to have tea with her father. But he’s also gone a lot, and she doesn’t know where he goes when he leaves. She understands, really. It’s hard for him to be around her. Everything is a reminder of what he’s lost, or what he could’ve had in a better world.

She loves him. She’s just not sure she deserves him anymore.

She used to be so sure of herself, so confident. Her mother instilled that in her. _You may not be a Black in name, Nymphadora, but you are one in blood._ When she’d noticed how Harry looked at her, she liked it. Then she grew to love it. And then she grew to love him, and that was terrifying. How do you love the Boy-Who-Lived? So she’d ignored it, his feelings and hers, and as much she loves Teddy, wouldn’t give him up for anything, she regrets saying nothing when it might’ve made a difference.

Harry visits four times in September, twice in October, only once in November, and by the end of the year he only writes to check in on Teddy, to see if he needs anything. She assures him that Teddy’s fine, that if he needs anything she’ll let him know. And that’s the last she hears from him for a while.

She’s despondent. Her words of assurance to him at the lake are of little comfort to her now. And he was right. Remus’ death _did_ hit her eventually. And it ached. She may not have loved the man, but she ached for how Teddy would grow up without his father, how it would affect him.

She has dinner with Hermione and Ron, and when she asks after him, they tell her rather reluctantly that Harry’s been spending time with Ginny, and it burns to hear it. But then, she has no reason to feel jealous, none at all. So, she changes the subject, ignoring the piteous glances they send her way. When they part, Hermione pulls her into a hug and whispers in her ear:

“He still loves you, Tonks. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.”

“Least he could is say something every once in a while,” she grumbles, but Hermione’s gaze sharpens considerably and she thinks she might have just fucked up.

“Harry’s been abandoned by everyone he loved at least once in his life, sometimes forever. He didn’t expect it from _you_. It’s going to take more than you telling him that you slept with one of his father’s friends to get over your feelings for him to heal that wound.”

And god _damn_ if that doesn’t hurt like hell. But she nods, says her goodnights and goodbyes, and goes back home. Teddy’s asleep in his crib, so she sits in the rocker and cries a little, just to take the edge off.

The next time Harry visits, it’s nearly Easter. He looks better, like he’s been eating well and getting more sleep. He’s ecstatic to see Teddy up and walking around the house, picks him up and swings him around, tells him how _proud_ he is. And seeing him being so good with Teddy rips her apart in the best and worst ways. Then he sets Teddy on his hip and walks toward her, a sly smirk on his face. He hands Teddy over, leans down close and whispers in her ear:

“It’s rude to stare, Dora.” And then he walks into the kitchen to help her mother.

And, okay. What the _fuck._

So, she quickly gives Teddy to her father, who’s been watching from the den with the hugest shit-eating grin on his face, and goes straight to the kitchen, where he’s waiting for her. Alone.

_Okay, seriously. What the fuck is happening right now?_

“Come for a walk with me,” he says, and she follows without question.

They make their way through the garden and onto the street, silent as the grave, but she can tell something’s changed. He looks more confident, happier, like he was when she first met him. But she waits for him to make the first move, to have the first word.

“I’ve been seeing a mind healer,” he tells her, and all the pieces suddenly click into place.

“Oh,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says back, clearly having expected more of a reaction. “After everything, I just kind of went numb for a while. I couldn’t _feel_ anything. That’s why I told you not to wait. I didn’t know if that feeling of emptiness would ever go away. I didn’t want to put you and Teddy through that. False hope and all that.”

“Did it help?” she asks.

“No, at least, not at first. I didn’t like talking about what happened. I just thought it better to live and let lie. But eventually I had to open up, so I did. The healer was very helpful, helped compartmentalize things. The sessions got pretty intense, and I had to go away for a bit to just – get _away_ from Britain, from everything.”

“I wondered why you just dropped off the map. No letter, no floo call, nothing.”

“No floo in Muggle America, Dora. And the point was to get away from it all. One letter and I’d have come running right back, you know?”

“So why did you come back?” she asks tersely.

“Do you really need to ask?”

“Obviously, because I just did.”

“I came back for you, and for Teddy. I’ve been shirking my godfatherly duties. And I remember something about you waiting for me, if that offer’s still on the table at all.”

“ _God, yes_. It is,” she confirms, yanking him down to her.

As far as first kisses go, it’s pretty great for both of them. As two people who were insistent that they’d missed their chance with the other, they snog like horny teenagers. To be fair, one of them is. They abandon the tentative brushing of lips in favor of deep, languid kisses, tongues darting out and teasing each other. When they finally pull apart, they’re both flushed and breathing heavily.

“That was – “

“Yeah, it was.”

"Dora?" 

"Hmm?"

"Did you ever read the letters I sent?"

"I did."

"And? What did you think?"

"I think I love you, too."

"Oh, good. That's that done and squared away then."

She couldn't help but laugh. “We’re idiots for putting that off this long.”

“I think it all worked out alright in the end.”

And really, she had to agree.

the end.


End file.
